


paint it black (please don't, rainbows are so much nicer)

by WindyRein



Series: oh there you are; i've been looking for you [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Averted Panic Attack, Car Accidents, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Claudia Stilinski's Death, Comatose Peter, Crimes & Criminals, Disassociation, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, I Blame Tumblr, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kate Argent Goes to Jail, M/M, Mentioned Kate Argent, POV Alternating, Playlist, Psychological Trauma, Reading to a coma patient, Self-Hatred, Semi-Sane Peter Hale, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Hale Fire, Werewolf Reveal, Your soulmate's mood is reflected on your nails, burn scars, mentioned panic attacks, unintentional self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindyRein/pseuds/WindyRein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's ten when his soulmate slips into a coma. He's eleven when he sees his soulmate for the first time. He's sixteen when he actually meets his soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	paint it black (please don't, rainbows are so much nicer)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this idea](http://wacheypena.tumblr.com/post/134112033356/jupitarslightning-wacheypena) that I ran into a tiny eternity ago. I have no idea why it suddenly decided to become a thing but here we are. :D  
> Oh and, I'M NOT SORRY FOR THE ENDING!!!!
> 
> Writing music comes this time in the form of a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTymllmty6fvu1bTHWc3BY0tdFNfkzLhR).
> 
> (i wrote this in under three weeks. what the hell. o.O)

One night when he's ten his nails suddenly go from mellow blue to red and orange flames. He stops in the middle of the stairs and just stares. Stares as the colours get more and more vivid. Stares as he grows certain he can feel the warmth of the flames burning his fingers, his hands. Stares even more as his nails go death-black and something in him goes cold.

(he only realizes he's not breathing when the black melts into colourless-coma tipped with bloodred-pain and he gasps so loud his parents hear it)

(that's when he starts getting panic attacks. not after his mom dies, like he tells everyone.)

He learns to live with it but only because he has to. He _refuses_ to make his soulmate go through that same pain and loss of being suddenly anchorless in this cruel, cruel world.

His parents take him to the hospital and then to therapists to talk about what he's going through but it doesn't help. None of it helps. For a moment his soulmate was _dead_ and he knows how losing them would feel  like, _had felt like_ and all anyone can give him is some, some... _bullshit_ about going back to his life and waiting.

He doesn't want to wait one more second. Not when he knows how it feels when your soul is torn in two.

(later, he realizes the hale fire happened at the same time he was getting acquainted with the feeling of panic seeping into his bones and blood)

(later still, he learns there's a survivor. a survivor in a coma.)

It takes him almost a year to gather up the courage to go visit that survivor. He thinks the final push comes from the empty house that's filled with memories he doesn't want to be reminded of and missing a dad who should be helping him deal with his mom just being _gone_ _(no matter what his dad might suspect or what his role had actually been)_ and the empty hole that's just getting larger where he thinks that crack _tear **chasm**_ left by his soulmate _dying_ (not dead, not dead, _they're not dead!_ he has proof literally on _his hands_ ) was only just starting to close.

He'd done research beforehand and knows just being in the same room isn't optimal helping, that hearing his voice will be much more effective. So he brings a book with him to read to his soulmate (american gods because he's been on a bit of a mythology binge lately). It's pure luck that Melissa's covering for one of the nurses of the long term ward and he can get a room number from her with slightly widened eyes and a "I just wanna see if it helps".

When he steps into the room, his breath catches but it's not because of the painful-looking scarring covering half of the man's face. It's not even his age or the way he doesn't react to anything around him. It's simply that this is his _soulmate_ and he's finally found him _(knows it in his **bones** )_.

He takes a deep breath and then steels his determination. He steps into the room and drags a chair next to the hospital bed. He takes a moment to look at his soulmate's nails and the way they're coloured with shining steel and thinks it suits how he feels.

He gets comfortable, cracks the book open, clears his throat and starts, " _Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough, and looked don't-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks - -_ "

He reads until his dad comes to pick him up and his voice scratches with the hours of use he's put it through. Before he leaves, he hugs his soulmate and tells him, "I'll come back tomorrow and we can continue reading then."

(he thinks he feels the slightest movement from the man but then shakes his head and tells himself he's imagining things, hoping for things that can't happen that fast)

***

He comes back the next day and the day after that and the day after that and soon the nurses start knowing his name and asking after him and what book they're reading with Peter (that's his soulmate's name, he'd blushed so hard when he'd asked Melissa that first day after his dad had asked him and he _didn't know_ ) and just generally keeping tabs on him and his dad.

He reciprocates, of course. He listens when Mrs. Norwick tells him about her daughter getting an A+ on her math test and how proud little Lily had been, commiserates with Dolly Cope about the kind of things the newbies have to do at the ward, and exchanges tortilla recipes with Head Nurse Alicia _(none of this mrs. herrera business, stiles, mrs. herrera is my mother-in-law)_ and then, the next day, gushes at her about how awesome her recipe is and how his dad hadn't even realized there wasn't meat in the tortillas.

Through all of this he keeps reading to Peter. Every day without fail. Come rain, heat wave or storm wind.

Somewhere after the first three months, he asks the nurses about the physical effects of a coma and learns about muscle atrophy. He teaches himself, with some help from Dolly, how to exercise Peter's muscles to lessen the loss of muscle mass even if he can't stop it entirely.

He likes to think Peter gets better, or at least gets something out of it, and then one day he's washing his hands and he blinks down at them because... because the red-tipped colourless scheme on his nails he's lived with for the last two years and change, has a purple sheen to it.

He doesn't even register hitting the floor just stares in awe until his dad comes to see what the noise was about. Stiles can only stare at him with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock before he shows the nails on his right hand to his dad while he turns his gaze to stare at his left hand.

He barely hears his dad's sharp breath over the humming in his ears because, this? This is _proof_ that what he's doing is affecting something, is _actually_ helping.

They rush to the hospital, mostly because Stiles can't stop the feeling that he _has to_ see Peter and his dad indulges him far easier than if it was anything else at all but his soulmate.

They're barely in the door when his dad gets a call about a multiple car collision on the highway 15 miles from the city border. He barely gets to open his mouth to argue before his dad says, "Stay here. I'll send a deputy to drive you home if this takes long enough for you to get kicked out.", and there's a small twist of amusement to his dad's lips. Stiles has to admit, nothing but Head Nurse Alicia's _you have homework, don't you_ / _you need sleep... in your own bed_ face won't get him to leave.

He greets the nurses at the nurses' station with a blinding smile and there are comments about his good mood but he can't help it. He's far too giddy about this new development.

When he gets to Peter's room, it takes him a while to calm down enough to pick up the book they were reading and continue from where they'd left off yesterday, " _It's in the newspaper today how somebody broke into offices between the tenth and fifteenth floors of the Hein Tower, and climbed out the office windows, and painted the south side of the building with a grinning five-story mask - -_ "

When he gets to the end of the story his mind's blown and he's silent for a couple of minutes before starting to talk about the book's end and how brilliant it was, from there his mouth takes control and he's babbling about anything and everything, except for the colour of his nails. He doesn't mention that until his dad comes to pick him up, looking like he's worked a double instead of the five hours he's been gone. It's when he gives Peter his customary goodbye hug, that he whispers, "I know you're getting better and I can't wait for when you finally wake up but there's no need to hurry. I just...", and his voice breaks, "I'm just getting really lonely talking at you and not _with_ you."

***

_he's been in darkness for what feels like as long as he can remember but he knows that's not true. before... before he lost everything to fire and poison... he knew there'd been a before and there was a terrible anger in him at knowing someone had destroyed his pack, **his family** and he hasn't been able to get the retribution due to him._

_it takes him time to realize there's a speck of light in the darkness. too long, he thinks, when he finally notices. too focused on the anger and the pain and the loss, he thinks._

_but when he realizes he starts hearing a voice. young and soft and so, so precious (he doesn't know why, can't recognize it, why is it so **precious** already? whywhywhy). it comes in bits and pieces, little snippets and broken fragments, and he doesn't always understand the words, just likes to hear the cadence in the emptiness of this void he's trapped in._

_and somehow, somewhere, the voice becomes pack and he curls around that spark of light that's growing with every word and lets himself sleep and heal and just listen._

***

Years go by, years and years, and Stiles never stops visiting Peter. He starts to veer from reading fiction to other topics. Sometimes it's just random talking, about his day, about schoolwork and his teachers, about the latest drama that's happening between the students. Sometimes it's about his dad and the idiocy he has to deal with from some criminals, and citizens, in a town the size of Beacon Hills. Sometimes he reads books on whatever subject has caught his attention this time.

One time it was about his mom. He'd told Peter about the sickness and the months of hospital visits and hospital stays and the denial, how he'd hoped and prayed his mom would be fine and how she'd be the one to beat this incurable, terminal disease. He ends up laughing brokenly about his own childishness and belief in the impossible.

Finally, after he calms down, in spurts and stutters, breaking down crying more than once, he'd told him about his mom's last wish and what he'd done.

His dad hadn't said anything about his red-rimmed eyes or the blotchiness of his face. Just put an arm around his shoulders and taken him home.

***

_the voice isn't the same as before, one time. it takes him longer than he likes to realize it's pain and anguish he's hearing. he strains against the void and the binds keeping him in place. he howls and thrashes but nothing he does helps._

_finally, he curls as close as he can to that beacon of light the spark has grown to and whines with the pain of his mate._

_(he will never realize he knew that for a fact)_

_he  gets as close as he can and tries to push comfort at the light just as the light and voice have been his comfort._

_it's then that he starts really pushing himself. he needs to wake up._

***

They've just started Through the Looking Glass when something changes.

" _One, two! One, two! And through and through_

_The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_

_He left it dead, and with its head_

_He went galumphing back._

_'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?_

_**Come to my arms, my beamish boy!**_ "

It takes him a moment to realize what's changed but then he gasps because that was - -

He looks up and straight into a pair of sky-blue eyes and he can't stop himself. He practically jumps on the bed and crushes Peter in his arms. Slowly, so very slowly it's almost painful for Stiles to feel, arms come around him and Stiles bursts in tears.

"I thought you'd died. _You died_. And I never got to even meet you and then you were in a coma and no-one knew if you were ever going to wake up and I couldn't stop feeling this empty hole gnawing at me, telling me I didn't do enough, that I could've stopped everything from happening and I was _ten years old_ and they tell me to learn to live with it, like that's going to help anything and I just...", he stops for a shaky breath and rubs his face against Peter's neck, "I'm really, really happy you're awake."

"So", Peter starts in that same low, gravelly voice that'd joined him in reciting the poem and he jumps to get some water for his soulmate before helping him drink it in small sips.

"So," Peter tries again and this time his voice is smoother (he can't stop smiling at finally being able to hear it), "should I assume you're my soulmate or do you give just anyone such an enthusiastic greeting when they wake from a coma?"

He blushes abruptly and violently, and looks down suddenly abashed. "Yeah, I'm your soulmate and I'm sorry about the sudden hug-attack." He rubs at the nape of his neck before adding something that seems relevant, "and unloading on you without explaining things first."

Peter's hand comes to rest on one of his, the one that's picking at Peter's blanket, _(and is the movement faster than before?)_ and for a moment, he looks at their hands, entranced by all the colours playing over both of their nails _(he knows one on each of their hands will settle into the colour of their bond)_. "I wouldn't have joined in at that particular line if I didn't want you in my arms."

He looks up surprised and Peter's smiling softly. Stiles beams back.

After a moment of just staring at each other Peter's lips twist into a smirk and he says, regally, "Please continue."

Stiles bursts out laughing like he hasn't laughed in what feels like years and might actually even be that long. It's his laughter that finally attracts a nurse, who then calls a doctor and then there are people surrounding Peter, asking him questions and talking about tests and observation and all sorts of other things that seem to only irritate Peter. Stiles doesn't mind the other people demanding his soulmate's attention as much as he thinks he should.

It's probably because Peter doesn't take his eyes off of Stiles at all during all of the chaos that's invaded the usually quiet hospital room.

It's maybe half an hour before the doctor and the nurses leave and they're left alone again.

Stiles' smile has softened into something fond and content. When they're finally alone and Stiles can't even hear anyone in the hall outside, Peter raises an eyebrow. "I believe I asked you to continue reading."

Stiles' lips quirk a bit higher for a moment. He clears his throat and continues,

" _O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'_

_He chortled in his joy._

_'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble - -_ "

***

Aleksander sighs long and exhausted. It was... not a bad day as such, tedious maybe, full of neighbours calling about each other and old Mrs. Chester complained about the trash man not doing his job properly because there's trash everywhere she goes, and for the third time this month Aleksander got to listen to how _this city used to have pride_ and how _everything was better when Sheriff Menschtett was in office_ , Aleksander had stopped her there and politely (mentally gritting his teeth) ended the call. He sighs again just thinking about it.

It takes him a moment to realize the laughter he's hearing is Stiles' and he's awed at the pure happiness it's emanating. He hasn't heard that since before Claudia got sick, maybe even longer than that.

He stops in the doorway and just observes Stiles and his soulmate for a moment. He rolls his eyes when, five minutes later, he comes to the conclusion, they're already head over heels in love with each other.

***

Peter looks at himself in the mirror and sneers at what he sees. Half his face just gone because someone decided that his family didn't deserve to live.

(he doesn't want to think about how this face is the only one his mate's seen)

He wants to will it to heal, wants with all of his being to hunt down an alpha and rip its throat out and use that power to make himself good enough for Stiles. Not just so that the boy wouldn't have to stare at the mess his flesh is but also for protection, that someone could always come back when they hear he's woken up and now there's Stiles _(his precious **human** mate)_ on the line as well and Peter would rather kill himself than let anything happen to Stiles.

(he doesn't think about the way the scars cover half his body, not just half his face)

(he _definitely_ doesn't think about how stiles' skin is so perfectly flawless that he doesn't understand how the boy could ever look at him with anything but loathing)

He thinks about healing the scars as much as he can with his current power levels _(omegaomega **omega**. where are derek and laura? where's his alpha?)_ and explaining things afterwards but that doesn't seem fair to Stiles _(and when did he start considering what's fair to someone?)_ and, really, the Sheriff _would_ shoot him the moment he shifted, soulmate or not.

He sighs and bares his teeth at his mirror image when he hears the defeat in that one exhale. Forced to look like this awful amalgamation of scar tissue and a reminder of better days long passed and he's defeated. Defeated by some faceless enemy that didn't even have the respect to rip his and his family's throats out. Traps and trickery and _fire_. It has the stench of hunters all over it and _Peter didn't know about it_. He'd failed his pack and his Alpha by not knowing there was a threat in the territory and now he'd have to face that failure every day. He looks down at his hand, burnt as it is. No, not every day. Every second of every day. Face his failure and know that it could happen again. Except next time it'll be his mate choking on smoke and drowning in flames.

Under the growl rumbling from his chest he hears something crack and suddenly the sink he's been leaning on isn't there anymore and he almost falls flat on his face.

He looks down and sees his claws unsheathed and the sink in pieces on the floor. This time when he looks at the mirror, he sees his fangs have dropped and those accursed scars are warping his wolf's appearance.

This time, the tinkling of glass doesn't surprise him.

(he still can't tear his eyes away from the bleeding cuts that glitter with glass)

_(blood dripping down his hand like flames and the pups' blood burned into his skin and talia screaming as pack bond after pack bond snaps and shatters and - -_

Pale hands with long fingers cradling his and cleaning the wounds and for a moment he wonders who this being of moonlight and amberwhiskey is.

It's almost audible when his brain clicks back into place and its right tracks and he's pulling his hand away before he can think but Stiles doesn't let go. His grip goes from gentle to firm in a heartbeat and the look Peter receives when he finally looks at his mate tells Peter clearer than any words how unimpressed the human is with his behaviour _(there's understanding, too. why?)_.

"You can tell me if you want," Stiles says while gently dabbing at the wounds with disinfectant, "but I'm not going to force you into talking about things you want to forget. Sometimes it's better to forget and push forward but sometimes it's better to just talk to someone, and if you want that someone to be me, then I'm going to be there and listen. Okay?" He looks up at the end with those doe eyes of his and Peter is helpless to do anything but nod.

(he doesn't realize until later that stiles didn't say anything about the claws on his hands or any of the other non-human things he must've seen that day)

***

"Stiles, there's something I need to tell you."

His head immediately snaps up and his heart doubles its beat. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This _can't_ be **_happening_**. He thought they were doing so well. He thought things were going good and Peter was adjusting and - -

"Stiles. Stiles! Calm down, sweetling. It's nothing bad. I promise."

He finally concentrates on Peter's face and yes, okay, he looks concerned but there's no resentment and, he checks his nails, Peter's not hiding anything either. Okay, he can do this.

Deep breath. Unclench your fists. Deep breath. Calm down your heart. Deep breath.

"So, what is it?"

And suddenly Peter's expression goes from concern to nervousness. He frowns a little and tilts his head. Peter had said it wasn't anything bad, so what could it be. It's far too early for a proposal, he knows that much. It can't be Peter leaving if it isn't bad. So, what could it be?

His soulmate takes hold of his hands and looks down at them where the nails on their ring fingers are swirling from gold to blue to smoke black to purple to spark red and back to blue-tinted gold. Their bond colours. More alive and unpredictable than any he's ever seen before.

He hears Peter take a deep breath of his own and Stiles tightens his grip on Peter's hands a little.

"There's a reason I survived the fire even though the doctors said it should have been impossible."

They're both quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "Okay. Can you tell me what it is?"

Peter's grip on his hands tightens before he huffs out a breath like he thinks he's being ridiculous. Stiles is almost hundred per cent certain there's nothing Peter could say that would drive him away.

After a moment of silence, Peter leans his head on Stiles' shoulder. There's another bracing breath. "I..." and he falls quiet before muttering something that sounds like _here goes nothing_. "My whole family," he starts again, "no, _most_ of my family were werewolves. _I'm_ a werewolf."

Stunned silence for a few beats and then, Stiles laughs and Peter looks up at him a little hurt, a little unsure, and Stiles immediately sobers and pulls him into a proper hug. "I sort of figured something was up when I started to feel," he purses his lips seeming to look for a word, "echoes of feelings, I guess you could call them, at the back of my head and nothing I found on soulbonds said that should happen. After that it was just a matter of research and a process of elimination."

He's quiet for a moment. Then with a smile he knows is fond, "And Peter," he looks down where his mate is busy burying his face in his neck, "burying your face in my hair or neck and taking big lungfuls of air, not the subtlest thing."

As a result, he has the privilege of seeing his usually unflappable intended turn a delightful shade of red.

***

Aleksander sizes up Peter while the man looks to be pulling his thoughts together. He has no idea what this is about or why whatever it is about has to be talked about while Stiles isn't home and isn't coming home anytime soon. When Peter breathes out long and slow, he figures the man's ready to talk.

"I'm terrified, it'll happen again."

For a moment, Aleksander just blinks at Peter. Before he can say anything, Peter continues, "I'm terrified it'll happen again and this time it'll be Stiles that burns or gets shot or something equally horrifying that I won't be able to stop."

And suddenly it all makes sense. Aleksander nods. He can understand that feeling.

"And we never did find out who set that fire", he mutters more to himself than anything. Peter's head still snaps up. His eyes scrutinizing Aleksander for... something.

"I thought the fire was ruled accidental." His eyes are narrowed like he's expecting Aleksander to fall in with the party line. Peter should know him better by now. He scoffs at the younger man, "It might have been ruled that but there was nothing accidental about that fire. An idiot can see that much."

"And yet...", Peter trails off mockingly. Aleksander sighs because he knows what the man isn't saying. _And yet no-one cared enough to find my family's killer._

"The Sheriff at the time closed the case after a perfunctory investigation and I was just a Deputy at the time. There hasn't been any new evidence that would justify reopening it."

They stare at each other for a moment and it seems to hit them both at the same time.

"No new evidence until now." Peter says and Aleksander picks up on his train of thought, "But a victim waking up from a coma. A possible _witness_."

There's silence for a long while as they both think about the consequences of what they're going to start.

After a long while, Aleksander lets out a breath that already sounds tired."Well, nothing to it but getting started then."

They start planning immediately. Planning what Peter should say and when they should officially reopen the case and what exactly can the Sheriff find out just by subtly poking around.

They're in the middle of an argument about starting with a fraud investigation against the insurance investigator (they're both certain there was some kind of bribery or blackmail involved) when Stiles comes home.

He looks from the papers covering the dining room table to Peter to Aleksander, narrows his eyes and crosses his arms settling in with all the stubbornness he'd inherited from both of his parents.

Peter starts saying something, probably an excuse of some sort, but Aleksander only sighs while rubbing his forehead and waves Stiles toward the table with his other hand.

While Stiles is bend over the papers looking through them, Peter raises an eyebrow at Aleksander in question. Aleksander rolls his eyes and says, "Kid's just as stubborn as his parents." in explanation. He gives it a moment before something else occurs to him. "And he's probably already started his own investigation."

Stiles only mutters, "Damn straight." while seemingly engrossed in comparing two of the documents they had laid out.

Peter's eyes widen. He'd never thought his mate might have thought about something like this. Never thought this small family would accept him so easily, soulmate or not.

He looks away for a moment and both Stilinskis pretend they can't see how watery his eyes have become suddenly.

A moment later, Stiles nods at something and races upstairs to his room before coming back with a file folder with everything he's dug up so far.

***

Garrison never thought he'd get away with it. But as the years passed it seemed that the woman had done her homework on more than just Garrison.

But the guilt... He couldn't take the guilt and he left his job. His wife left _him_ a little after that and since then Garrison has been living a lonely life with the only constant being the guilt.

When Sheriff Stilinski shows up on his doorstep and says, "I've got a few questions about the Hale fire." Garrison's knees give out and the only thing he can say, is a breathless "oh thank god."

Garrison tells the Sheriff everything he knows and has the best sleep he's had in years. He talks about how the fire investigator didn't seem to want to think of the fire as arson, even if it's marked as a possibility, and how the woman had sauntered up to him one day to speak about accidents being horrible things and how maybe he could look away and there'd be a little something in it for him.

He describes the woman the best he can after all these years. He speaks about a couple of arsonists that had been in the area at the time. He whispers about how he'd looked into things as part of the investigation and how there'd been at least three other families burnt in almost identical fires all over the US.

The next day he's taken into custody on bribery charges and that's the last Garrison hears of anything Hale-related until his trial.

***

What follows ends up spiralling into a nationwide manhunt and when the FBI connects Kate Argent to more and more fires around the country, they run into a bit of a problem. The first fire with the same MO happened when Kate was four.

That's when they start looking at the whole of the Argent family closer. Things start making more and more sense the deeper the FBI and, later, Interpol dig.

The whole world ends up paying attention when what seems like a whole network of killers is unearthed. Families with a history of violence (sometimes seemingly centuries long), on every continent, in almost every country.

The number of cold cases getting solved that and the following year spikes at five times higher than usual.

The bureaucratic mess of extraditions and prosecutions, coincidentally, slows down to a rate that has some politicians joking it's actually moving backwards.

(that's not even mentioning those declared fugitives or guilty in absentia)

But none of this is important. Not really.

***

They're driving home after Kate's sentencing when it happens.

Something hits the car and it swerves. They hit a tree and Stiles can't tell up from down but he can hear the feral growling from outside.

There's a groan of metal when Peter forces the door open and a screech when he climbs out.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then something roars and there's the awful sound of two massive things colliding with the wet sound of rending flesh and snapping jaws.

But all of this becomes background noise when he coughs and feels something wet dribbling down his chin. He looks down as much as he can and lets out a broken sob.

He thought there was something odd about feeling something solid in his stomach. He thought it might've been just the sudden car crash and the stress, the panic. He thought so wrong.

He sobs again and tries to pull the tree branch out. There's no strength in his arms.

He lets go of the branch and gurgles out a wet sounding sob of a name.

The snarling outside has died down into silence, he realizes belatedly.

He tries to pull away when the car door on his side gets wrenched away.

A violent sounding snarl and he can't stop sobbing because... Because it doesn't hurt anymore and he knows that's bad.

That's really bad.

The last thing he sees before unconsciousness takes him is a pair of red eyes. He's certain this Alpha killed Peter and really, that's enough for him.

He closes his eyes and lets go.

\--

He... wakes up. He wakes up on the side of the road leaning against the car. He hadn't exactly expected this.

He... can hear something. A steady thumping noise somewhere close. He reaches out and touches the source. His eyes come to focus suddenly and he recognizes Peter's shirt, torn as it is.

He looks up.

Brilliant blue locks onto ruby red and it's the start of a new era.

**Author's Note:**

> Missed tags are appreciated and reviews are loved. :)
> 
> First of all, I'm open to answering ALL THE QUESTIONS. I'm not promising satisfying answers but I'll answer :D And before you ask about Derek and Laura. *shrugs and mumbles I dunno* But I'm imagining it's something along the lines of [Kismet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3686067) and I don't want to write that scene since it'd be a pretty straightforward copy of Cross'. And kids, that'd be Bad and Wrong.
> 
> Second of all, no, Peter didn't slash any child's throat during the fire. There might have been some neck-snapping, though.
> 
> Third of all, I have no idea what happened with the investigation and how it became what it became. :D Oops?
> 
> Fourth of all, the books quoted in order of appearance are: American Gods by Neil Gaiman, Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, and Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. I typed up the snippets exactly as they appear in my copies of the books, so if they differ from yours, there's really nothing I can do about it. (and I had to go dig Alice out of storage in the middle of writing when my muse decided there just had to be a snippet from it in this xD)
> 
> And lastly, if you want to, you can come scream at me about steter or anything else really over at [tumblr](http://www.poutingtrolltroll.tumblr.com). There are also occasional writing updates and author wailing.


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